


stumbling in and out of tune

by Cxnfiscated



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, F/M, Individually tagged chapters, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-10-11 21:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17454404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cxnfiscated/pseuds/Cxnfiscated
Summary: It became a habit after that. After long tedious battles, that left their hearts reeling and the ground swaying beneath their feet, Lance would knock at Keith’s door and Keith would answer without hesitation.A collection of drabbles, one-shots and songfics featuring a variety of the Voltron cast.





	1. and now the day bleeds (and i do too)

**Author's Note:**

> hey, hello! Welcome! I'm starting a new project!  
> So this will be kind of like a scrapbook of my writing. Bits and pieces, half-spun thoughts of which i couldn't be bothered to spin the other half.
> 
> This particular drabble was based on [Someone you loved by Lewis Capaldi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moHc1eRVshU&start_radio=1&list=RDmoHc1eRVshU) and features Lance being heartbroken over Keith leaving for the blade of marmora.
> 
> tags: ANGST, canon divergence(-ish idk) - set after Keith leaves for the BoM, hurt without comfort
> 
> N E WAYS, Hi i'm Manu and i hope we'll see more of one another!!

Lance still went looking for him on the training deck. Even after more than a week had passed, he found himself there. He would wander off, his mind far away among the stars and before he even knew what he was doing and before he could spare himself from unnecessary heartache, he was on the training deck.

 

The room itself was empty more often than not, now that Keith wasn’t there anymore to use it. The training bots would remain dormant in their casings and the clang of metal could be imagined but would go unheard.

 

Lance would then realise what he was doing and turn around. _ Out of sight, out of mind, _ would the first lie he would tell himself, as he avoided the general area of the training deck for the following hours.  _ I just have to get used to it,  _ would be the next one.

 

But the nights were worse. Half of his bed went unfilled and his body curled up. Like a question mark to end all of the question burning in his mind.  _ Could I have done something differently? Could I have made you stay? _

 

When his mind had run itself ragged desperately trying to catch up his train of thoughts, going faster and faster, it joined the rest of his body in its longing for Keith’s warmth. His body had become a spoiled thing, his skin imagining Keith’s touch over and over again.

 

After there had been too many close calls, too many blasts that could have ended all they were working for, to bear the burden of sleep alone. They had begun to curl around one another until they didn’t anymore.

 

Lance remembered his departure as clearly as if had just happened yesterday but that was no surprise. His mind clung to pain much longer than it did to pleasure.

 

He had walked up to Keith’s door, his heart in his throat and his hands shaking. But when Keith opened the door for him… It had been like looking in the mirror. The same exhaustion, the kind that travelled deeply and took up permanent residence in the space between his bones. The same determination to evade sleep for as long as possible.

 

He didn’t even have to ask.

 

Keith had let him in, into his room, into his bed ─ and what foolish,  _ foolish _ Lance had tricked himself into believing ─ his heart.

 

It became a habit after that. After long tedious battles, that left their hearts reeling and the ground swaying beneath their feet, Lance would knock at Keith’s door and Keith would answer without hesitation.

 

They would curl around each other like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit right, but that was okay. Lance had stopped believing into perfection a long time ago. Keith would wrap around his back and Lance would melt into him. Chest to the scar, his face in the back of his neck.

 

It had been the closest thing to  _ right  _ he had felt in a very long time and he got used to it. The first mistake.

 

Then his guard began slipping and his insecurities squeezed themselves through.

 

_ I don’t really have a thing, you know? _

 

_ Maybe I should step down… _

 

...  _ seventh wheel. _

 

Words whispered in the dead of the night, in the kind of darkness that even the stars couldn’t reach, and Lance thought they would go unheard. The second mistake.

 

Because then Keith left for the Blade of Marmora and took all of the warmth with him. Now the nights were unbearable again and Keith wasn’t there to get him through them. 

No, now his hands would reach over to the other half of his bed and meet nothing. His sleep-ridden brain wouldn’t realise what was happening and the pain would start all over again.

 

And maybe that would keep happening, he would now remain stuck in this vicious cycle of forgetting and the fresh pain of remembering because his world,  a world without Keith at his side, didn’t make sense anymore.


	2. soothe my soul and calm my nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> self-care with Klance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: Klance, alternate universe – modern AU, university/college, cuddling, intimacy,

This week was both too long and too short and up until now it still wasn’t guaranteed that he would make it.

 

Keith fumbled for the hair tie on his desk and haphazardly threw his bangs up in a tiny ponytail. The front part was too tight, already a headache in the making, and there were multiple strands he missed but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

He forced his eyes back to his screen where he was met with a wall of text. His French essay, already supposed to be done by now. He sighed and eyed the books stacked next to the three empty, brown-rimmed coffee mugs. Biology coursework, already supposed to be done two days ago.

 

He pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes and felt the effects of the caffeine die down. Leave it to his exhaustion to be the overachiever  _ he  _ was supposed to be.

 

Keith shot his bed a longing look, wrinkled his nose at its state and resisted the pull tearing at his bones.  _ Just rest for a minute, _ the lazy part in him, the one that would never amount to anything, crooned.

 

Keith shook his head and set his eyes back to his laptop screen.  _ One sentence at a time, come on. _ Positive self-talk, a habit both Lance and his therapist nagged him about, did nothing to get rid of the antsy feeling beneath his skin.

 

The pull at his skin, the biting feeling resting in the depth of his stomach and slowly but surely eating away at his sanity.  _ You’re running out of time. _ The thought repeated itself, rising and rising until everything else became secondary to it.

 

There was no self-talk powerful enough to get rid of it. Keith couldn’t talk himself out of the truth. The thought rose and swelled in his mind until even his heart felt like a drum driving its point home. Tides of worry, building and building, up and up and then ─ 

 

Lance, his lifeline, appeared.

 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Lance threw his jacket and his bag onto his bed and walked over to Keith. He cupped Keith’s face with his hands and pulled his body to shore, away from his waves of worry.

 

“I─ It’s just, you know, exam season.” Keith averted his eyes. Lance obviously knew already they both took the same exams. But Lance either didn’t notice or chose not to comment on his body language.

“When’s the next one?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And the one after that?”

“The day after.”

Keith closed his eyes when tears built up beneath them. He wouldn‘t cry. Nope, not today. 

 

Lance‘s thumb began to draw slow, steady circles on his cheekbone, his brows furrowed and his voice rang slow and quiet when he spoke. 

 

“How about you take an hour?“  _ Taking an hour _ , because none of them could manage to clear out an evening, let alone an entire day. A system born and developed by two workaholics. Their probably very wrong way of doing self-care, now perfected after weeks of trial and so,  _ so,  _ many errors. 

 

Keith sighed. His work rested in his shoulders like a physical weight, dragging him down, the pull of the tides threatening to pull him back under. His breath hitched as he balled his hands into fists. He needed rest. He should take a break. Taking care of himself shouldn’t be this hard.

 

But Lance was there to carry that burden when Keith was too weak to do it alone. “Yeah, you’re definitely taking an hour.” Lance reached past him and saved the draft of Keith’s essay. Then he shut off the computer and pulled Keith out of his desk chair.

 

He didn’t even protest. Lance was a force of nature on good days and Keith was way past the stage of believing he could deny Lance anything. Yeah,  _ way  _ past that stage.

 

Lance pulled Keith over to his bed. “What are we doing now?” Keith asked even though their Hours, their stolen pockets of calm and relaxation, pretty much had a routine by now. Lance put on a wide smile, the closest thing to the sun Keith had seen in weeks and pushed his hands into his hips.

 

“You, my beautiful fella,” He made an exaggerated show of leaning forward and tapping Keith’s chest, “have earned yourself a grade-A cuddling session provided by moi.” He put his hand to his chest and shot him a smug grin.

 

Keith huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh but the closest thing he had managed in the last 24 hours. Lance beamed back like he had just given him his Christmas and birthday gifts for the next five years all at once. 

 

“Lucky me,” Keith answered, the words way to soft to accurately portray the sarcasm he was aiming for. But that was okay, his voice always softened when he spoke to Lance, so he didn’t expect any different anymore.

 

Lance toed off his shoes as Keith did the same and they both collapsed into the sheets. Keith sprawled out on Lance’s chest and buried his face in the crook of his neck. All tension in his body bled away and for a long moment, Keith did nothing but to relish in the feeling. 

 

The first sip of coffee in the morning, the first clear blue sky after weeks of dull grey─ nothing could compare. Nothing came even close to the warmth blooming in his chest when he was right where was supposed to be, chest to chest with Lance.

 

“Better?” Lance asked and then laughed when Keith just mumbled an answer into his collarbone.

 

Keith lifted his head and shot Lance an expectant look. A question asked so many times that they hadn’t memorised the exact feel of it on their tongues but also recognised it when it was hidden, tucked way in a particular lift of eyebrows or curl of lips.

 

Lance answered in the only appropriate way. He adjusted his position until he was half sitting, half lying and then leaned down to press his lips against Keith’s.

 

The kiss deepened and grew like the petals of a blooming flower in bloom. A soft press, intensified until each brush of tongue was electrifying and even the last bits of worry bled away.

 

Keith put his hand on Lance’s cheek and was once again left in awe at the softness of his skin. A skin currently flushed a bright red. Keith smiled, truly smiled, when he met Lance’s eyes, glittering and sparkling in the most beautiful of blues. 

 

“Thank you for being here,” Keith whispered, his words an exhale driven by love and adoration. Overflowing with emotion and yet inadequate to get across the true scope of the warmth in his heart. A warmth that only existed because  _ Lance did too.  _

 

Lance kissed him again, a soft lingering press of lips, first on the corners of his mouth, then his nose and then finally his lips were they drew out the moment in a sweet and lasting legato ─ a note played as long as possible.

 

When he finally broke off, the feeling of his kiss staying on Keith’s lips like fingerprints did on glass, he beamed back even wider than Keith did. He wove their fingers together and pressed another kiss to one of Keith’s knuckles.

 

“For you? Always.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me projecting AND fantasizing,,,, no
> 
> also my technOLOGICALLY CHALLENGED ASS GOT AN A IN COMPSCI SO I AM L I V I N G
> 
> for anyone who's made it all the way down here stan [And Yet, The Sun Will Rise Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206018/chapters/35268089) (chap five is in works i promise)  
> thank u and see y'all soon!


	3. a study in flutters and butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Their friendship turned into love like spring changed into summer, a gradual and slow process until the only thing left to do was to call it by its proper name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: Romellura; alternate universe – modern AU; college/ university; friends to lovers; fluff; Allura's POV  
> this was written while listening to [Slow Up by Jacob Banks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZNe7i2Qhak)

Allura had never been in love before. She could dream it up, yes, for hours upon hours or just stolen little pockets of silence spent staring into space.

 

She had never been in love, never felt the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, never had her entire being crave a person so much that everything else turned secondary. What would it feel like to look at someone with the same awe as an artist did at the sky when the sunset whipped out its brightest colours and painted its new masterpiece.

 

Or would did it feel like a composer listening to a symphony coming together for the first time? Leaning forward until they were at the edge of their seat, lips pulled into a smile as bright as the stars themselves, seeing the inner workings of another artist’s piece and appreciating them even more for understanding them.

 

Or maybe it would be like a writer falling in love with a story, swept away and carried by wings of imagination, immersed in a world of ink coming to life?

 

There were a hundred possibilities, dozens upon dozens of different ways it could play out.

 

Allura couldn’t wait to experience all of them.

 

**_ii._ **

Seeing Romelle laugh for the first time was the closest thing to butterflies and flutters she could ever imagine.

 

Allura was left starstruck, like an astronomer finally seeing the colours of space. Her lips fell open in a small gape as Romelle laughed at some mediocre joke she had cracked

 

Her entire body laughed with her, curving forward as her eyes scrunched up and her cheeks flushed a bright red. It wasn’t a pretty laugh though, not at all, it was shrill and  _ loud _ . Closer to a scream than an expression of joy, almost obnoxious even. But still, Allura joined in like a prophecy fulfilling itself. 

 

And so they shared their first laugh together, in their tiny dorm room, sitting amongst boxes that still needed to be unpacked and on the dawn of a new part of their life. Allura let her eyes drift over Romelle’s face, her edges bathed in gold by the sun shining through the window.

 

_ Yeah, definitely butterflies. _

 

**_iii._ **

Romelle kept teaching Allura little lessons of love, one by one, without even realising it.

 

First, there was the soup when Allura was sick. 

 

“Romeelllee, don’t leave me!” Allura called out from beneath her pile of blankets. Her head pounded sharply as if to protest her whining and her vocal cords strained and burned at the exertion. This had to be what death felt like.

 

Romelle just laughed at her misery. Peak friendship, right there.

 

“It’s just a cold, no one dies from that.” Romelle’s voice rang muffled through the blankets covering Allura’s ears, as she leaned down to start pulling them away from Allura’s head. 

 

Yeah, but that wouldn’t happen. Nuh-uh. Allura tightened her grip on the blankets and fought viciously. Romelle’s laughter rose and she let out a victorious yell when Allura let go of the blanket to shoot her a seething glare.

 

“Then I’ll be the first one to do it and it will be your fault because you abandoned me,” Allura wheezed snottily. Her stuffed nose gave her voice the nasal twang of a child and she could already see the beginnings of another laughing fit on Romelle’s face. Stupid cold.

 

The laughter never came. Instead, Romelle leaned down and pressed a kiss to Allura’s forehead. Allura felt her cheeks heat up ─ although, that just could have been the fever, who knew ─ and thank the Gods and Deities for the melanin in her skin, hiding any redness there might have been.

 

“It won’t work, you know,” Allura grumbled, “It takes more than a kiss to cure my physical ailments.”

 

Romelle snorted at that. “ _ Ailments?  _ Be careful. Your English Major is showing.” She leaned down and pressed another kiss to Allura’s face, this time on the tip of her nose. Allura scrunched it up in a show of false annoyance.

 

“I just told, kisses won’t make me feel better. What was that for?” Allura asked, reaching up to pinch Romelle’s nose in retaliation. Romelle hopped off the edge of her bed and danced out of reach.

 

“Because I felt like it.” She answered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Allura just stared at her, her cheeks now even hotter than before (Yep, definitely the fever.).

 

Romelle threw her bag over her shoulder and made her way to the door but stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She half turned, absolutely radiant even through a vision blurred by a feverish haze. “Check your desk.”

 

With that, the door banged shut and their dorm laid still. Allura fought herself up into a sitting position and looked over to her desk. Her eyes searched for a second but then they caught it. 

 

Right there, in the middle of her desk, was a steaming bowl of soup and a tiny note that read: 

_ Get well soon. _

 

**_iv._ **

Touches quickly became a habit, a ritual even.

 

Fingers weaving together under desks in the library, shoulders bumping against each other, knees brushing under tables, and hugs. So. Many. Hugs. To say hello, to say goodbye, those because one of them felt like it and those because  _ both  _ of them felt like it. Hugs upon hugs upon hugs.

 

Allura snuck up on Romelle where she was sitting with her back to her, hunched over a bowl of pasta that she would later complain about being to dry or overcooked or undercooked or something else entirely. Allura leaned down until her head rested on Romelle’s shoulder. 

 

“Boo.”

 

Romelle reached up and patted her hair, the movement tired and slow. Neither of them had expected her to startle. “How’s the food, Gourmet Ramsey?” Allura teased and sank down next to her.

 

Romelle raised one of her pristinely plucked and filled-in eyebrows. “Not the worst that I’ve eaten but then again I’ve had  _ your  _ cooking numerous times, so that’s not really a valid criterion.” 

 

Allura smacked her arm. “Shut up. I have other qualities than cooking,” she quipped, chin raised in a pretentious mask of arrogance.

 

Romelle snorted. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, of course! Uhh...” Allura trailed off and Romelle erupted in flown blown laughter. A few heads turned at the still quite shrill and almost hysterical sound rang through the dining hall but Romelle spared them no mind.

 

Allura pushed Romelle and pouted. “Shut uuup!” But Romelle only laughed harder.

 

Only after Allura had crossed her arms and made a show of turning away, did Romelle manage to get a grip on herself. She wedged her arm between Allura’s biceps and her chest and broke her arms’ crossed position by threading her fingers through the ones’ of Allura’s right hand.

 

Allura melted at that like a piece of butter left out in the sun for too long. She leaned against Romelle, while she finished off the rest of her pasta. 

 

“So what are we doing today?” Romelle asked and turned to face her.

“I don’t know,” Allura mused and adjusted her grip when she felt Romelle’s fingers slipping from it. She didn’t care either if she was being completely honest.

 

It didn’t matter what they did as long as she got to do it with Romelle.

 

**_v._ **

Their friendship turned into love like spring changed into summer, a gradual and slow process, until the only thing left to do was to call it by its proper name. 

 

Allura raised her head from where it had been resting on Romelle’s shoulder and turned it to look at her, eyes widened in both awe and confusion. Romelle’s hand that had been drawing lazy circles on Allura’s bare shoulder stilled.

 

“What?” Romelle asked, her voice still raspy from the last traces of sleep lingering on. 

“Are we in a relationship?” Allura internally winced at her bluntness.

Romelle huffed out a laugh. A small thing, self-assured like she already knew the answer. “Do you us want to?” 

Allura smiled at that and nodded. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Then we are.”

 

Just that easy.

 

Allura leaned upwards, smile still resting on her lips and Romelle leaned down to meet her.

So they began their new day in the most perfect of ways.

 

Their lips took time learning each other’s shapes, finally giving into a desire that had risen beneath their skins weeks ago and that spread and spread until it was finally answered. Allura’s body came to life piece by piece until it felt like she had shooting stars running through her veins and stardust was about to come out of her ears. 

 

They parted, both gasping for air. Their world had narrowed down to just this. The two of them, nestled in Romelle’s dusty pink bed sheets and floating on a cloud of sleepy-soft contentment and the bright spark of a love story in the making.

 

The spark of their love had already grown into the warmest of fires when Romelle gave Allura another gift. She showed her that loving herself could be a wonderful thing.

 

They sat on the floor of their dorm, the contents of the  _ Self-Care Extravaganza Deluxe Packet, _ provided by one of Romelle’s best friends Lance, scattered around them. Allura tried to smile but instead wrinkled her nose, when she felt her skin pull and stiffen at the drying face mask.

 

“Don’t make that face. You’ll get to wash it off soon, I promise.” Romelle giggled at the grumpy look Allura shot her. Then she leaned down to blow onto her nails. She had painted them a dusty pink and now refused to even moved an inch before they weren’t completely dry.

 

“It’s itchy!” Allura whined.

“But it’s relaxing, isn’t it?” Romelle raised her chin and met her eyes in a challenge.  _ Just try to disagree with me, I dare you. _

Like Allura was able to actually form an argument with Romelle looking at her like that.

 

“Yeah, fine, you’re right.” Allura rolled her shoulders, now finally rid of tension, and leaned her head back against the edge of her bed.

“Are you going to listen to me then when I tell you that you need to take a break?” Romelle kept on asking, spurred on by for once out-stubborning Allura.

 

“Yeah… Or at least I’ll try” It’s just…” Allura deflated, teeth buried in her lower lip. Romelle softened her posture and inched closer.

“It’s just what?” Romelle softly probed.

Allura swallowed, the truth resting heavy on her tongue refusing to be spoken into existence. Every alarm siren in her head went off at once, warning  _ no, don’t! We don’t do vulnerability! Danger! Danger! _

 

Allura lifted her head and met Romelle’s eyes, deep pools of violet-grey shimmering with nothing but worry and … something Allura didn’t dare to call by its name. 

“I feel like I don’t deserve rest. Like no matter how much I do and no matter how close I am to collapsing from exhaustion, I don’t deserve to rest.” 

 

“Oh, Allura.” Two words coloured in deep blue shades of aching and empathy. 

 

“You deserve so much more than rest. You deserve so much more than being at war with yourself.” Allura averted her eyes as the emotion on Romelle’s face threatened to overwhelm her. It wouldn’t take more than another look and Allura would break and shatter, crash and burn.

 

But Romelle wasn’t having it.

 

She reached out and cupped her face between her hands. “Please, believe me,” she pleaded. Allura’s eyes widened as her heart grew and swelled until it was thrice the size from before. Until its seams were groaning and straining to contain her adoration.

 

“I love you,” she blurted out because those were the only words her mind was able to form. For once, they were actually the right words.

 

Romelle shot forward and crashed her lips into hers, drying face mask be damned. Allura took the surprise attack in stride, moving with her as the tides did with the moon. She clasped her hands around Romelle’s wrists and sighed into the kiss.

 

The seams of her heart finally gave out and all of her love rushed to her head until she was dizzy with it. It must have come out with her breath too, there was no way she could hold all of this love inside her body. 

 

They parted lips but stayed close to each other. Every breath they took was a shared one.

“I love you too,” Romelle whispered, the confession broken up by gasps, “And I will keep loving you until you can love yourself as much as  _ I _ love you.”

Allura closed her eyes, as tears shot up in them and turned her head to press a kiss to Romelle’s palm. 

 

For the first time, she felt truly cherished and for the first time, she was willing to give that kind of love too. To herself and much more importantly, to Romelle.

 

**_vii._ **

Allura now knew what being in love felt like and she also knew that he had been wrong before.

 

She had imagined awe at something new, something one experienced for the first time. But it was the opposite. It was looking at the same thing, the same  _ person _ , over and over again and still finding unknown things to love and learn how to better what was already known.

 

Allura knew that Romelle was essentially no good in the morning. She would blink slowly at everything before she stumbled her way into the kitchen to return with a steaming cup of coffee. No words left her mouth before the cup wasn’t at least half empty.

 

Now that Allura woke up right next to her, she got admire her sleep-soft mussed bedhead and the way they just naturally curled around each other. She got to smile back when Romelle beam at her for making her coffee to finally shake off the last remnants of sleep.

 

Blessings, each one of those little things.

 

So yeah, Allura now knew what being in love was like, a reality that surpassed every dream.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love they so much,,,, i canNOT
> 
> thank u very much for reading this! i somehow felt the desire to write this and made it up as i went. if you liked this consider yelling at me on my twitter: [@cxnfiscated](https://twitter.com/cxnfiscated) or at my tumblr: [@cxnfiscated](https://cxnfiscated.tumblr.com)
> 
> also, stan [And Yet, The Sun Will Rise Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206018/chapters/35268089)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: Klance; alternate universe - modern AU; clubs & dancing; drinking/being drunk; caring Keith, drunk Lance, cuddling, sharing a bed, falling in love

Nights out with Lance were the most vibrant thing that Keith had every experienced. Lance on the dance floor was like a fish finally tossed back into the sea, a painter finally given a paintbrush.

 

And,  _ oh _ , how he danced.

 

Lance moved without hesitation, brimming with confidence, divinity given flesh. Neon lights ─ red and blue and purple ─ drenched his body in colour and the floor vibrating beneath their feet was the perfect canvas for his art form.

 

Lance shot him a dazzling grin, his lipstick smudged at its corner and his skin gleaming with sweat. He was manic, breathtaking even and Keith was utterly entranced. Lance gripped his hands and Keith abandoned his promised made earlier, foolish words spoke in the belief that he was able to deny Lance anything. 

 

 _I don’t dance,_ Keith had boldly and foolishly claimed. Keith crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head when Lance pouted at him. He willed his weak nerves in line and tried to hide the soft spot he had for Lance, the one that was already caving beneath a scowl. Although could you even call it a soft spot if it was as big as your heart itself?

Keith shook his head to banish the thought but Lance smiled at him like he already knew the outcome of this argument, which he did. Both of them did.

 

Lance led him across the dance floor. Loud bass pounded from the speakers mounted through the walls and they stood wedged between the bodies of sweaty, drunk party-goers ─ this was the worst. 

Or at least it should have been. 

Lance didn’t let go of him once during that time and so they moved together, shared laughter spilling, lyrics yelled at the tops of their lungs and hips twisting and gyrating. Keith abandoned himself, let himself fall, sure a pair of hands would be there to catch him.

 

Lance caught his eye and held onto it with the surety of a siren, well aware of his allure and the effect he had on Keith. Their eye contact stretched and for a moment everything was happening in slow motion as if the universe for once had mercy on Keith and stretched his moment of happiness instead of ripping it out of his hands. He stared at Lance, his lips parted in wonder and Lance smiled back. 

 

Lance smiled back and Keith fell in love.

 

Keith was still in love when he was stumbling into his apartment, drunk off his ass, Lance’s hot breath puffing over the crook of his neck. They swayed like a ship at sea and Keith grunted when Lance dropped his last efforts of trying to keep himself upright and just clung to him instead. 

“This would be way easier if you just walked on your own you know?” Keith pressed out through clenched teeth when he leaned too far to that left and they came close to falling again.

Lance shot him a dazzling grin and Keith melted like butter in the sun, “Hmm, nah,” he slurred out and Keith found himself once again at a loss of words

 

Lance’s smile never faded. Keith found himself wishing he would stop, just a moment, just enough to give him a breather. Just one, he wouldn’t need more than that. Promise. But Lance couldn’t care less about that promise, he smiled and smiled and smiled, eyes wide and carefree, and Keith’s heart grew and grew and grew.

 

Keith steered them into his bathroom and sat Lance down on the edge of his bathtub. for a moment Keith felt like just sending him into bed like this, red lipstick smeared around the corners of his mouth, the glitter from his eyeshadow spread across his cheeks like starlight caught on skin. 

But then he paused.

He saw Lance twisting and pulling his skin to prove to him that _ no this wasn’t just a trick of the light but that he was getting a pimple the size of goddamn Mexico, Keith. _ Then that picture shifted. Lance stood in front of a mirror, applying serums upon serums, and mask and God knew what  _ because this was his skin and he would be damned if he didn’t treat it right! _

 

Keith sighed and bent down to find the pack of makeup wipes Lance had forgotten at his house a few weeks back and thrust it into Lance’s hands. Lance, still drunk mind you, did the only sensible thing and promptly dropped them. He giggled when Keith bent down to get them and the floor wayed beneath Keith’s feet when he straightened.

 

Yeah, those shots? Bad idea.

 

Keith ripped open the pack of makeup wipes and threw them next to the sink. He instinctively held his breath when he took a step closer to Lance and handed him the makeup wipes. Lance clumsily began to wipe his face and while Keith’s heart cracked and revealed his gooey insides at the picture, he was already swaying with exhaustion and didn’t trust himself not to fall asleep right where he was standing.

 

“Here, let me.” He took the wipe out of Lance’s hand and gripped his jaw. Lance melted into his touch when Keith began to rub the makeup wipe across his skin. Glitter and lipstick and eyeliner smearing in the process. 

For makeup wipes later and the entirety of Keith’s self-control in order to not just book it down the hallway because couldn’t deal with being this close to Lance, Lance was bare-faced and Keith had run out of the last excuse to downplay the feeling inside his chest. 

 

“Don’ stop,” Lance whined when Keith pulled back his hands and threw wipes in the trash next to the sink. Keith’s world screeched to a halt when he heard those words. He shot around, thinking that maybe Lance had meant something else, but no. Lance only stared at him, deep blue eyes wide and cheeks stained a deep red.

 

“You’re tired and drunk Lance,” Keith said more to remind himself than Lance and when he pulled Lance up from where he was sitting and began to lead him towards his bedroom.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“Not true.” Lance pursued his lips in a pout that had way too much of an effect on Keith but let himself be steered without any resistance. Keith huffed out a disbelieving snort.

“It isn’t!” Lance repeated, pout turning into an actual frown. Keith gripped him tighter when he began to lean away from him. The last thing he needed now was that Lance stumbled into a wall and bashed his head open on the way down.

“Alright fine,” Keith gave in, “If you still remember this tomorrow, feel free to ask me again.”

 

Lance fell silent after that, unusual considering his general behaviour when it came to direct challenges but Keith blamed the exhaustion and decided that it would have to be a worry for tomorrow. He couldn’t take any more of those tonight.

He opened the door of his bedroom and manoeuvred Lance onto the bed.

 

Shoes and socks were left aimlessly across the floor before Keith quickly pulled the blanket over Lance and turned to walk over to the couch in the living room. 

Or at least planned to. 

Lance’s hand clamped down on his wrist. “Where are you going?”

Keith looked down at their hands, then lifted his head to meet Lance’s eyes. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Your couch sucks.” That, while unnecessarily hurtful, was the truth, Keith’s couch was the physical manifestation of a back pain waiting to happen.

“It’s fine, Lance.” Keith sighed.

“Sleep here! With me.” Lance shot him a stubborn stare and tightened the grip on Keith’s wrist as if to make a point. Keith opened his mouth to protest but Lance just tugged at his hand and scowled.

Keith sighed. “Fine, scoot over.”

 

They laid next to each other long enough that Keith began to think that Lance had fallen asleep. He exhaled and willed his tense shoulders soft, even though each fibre of his being yearned and cried for rest, his mind was strung up and running. Lance as if he had been waiting for that to happen turned to face him.

When Keith opened his eyes he found Lance already staring at him. “What?” His words came out a hoarse whisper.

“I won’t forget,” Lance whispered back, words slurred and slow, and just like that, he was asleep.

  
  


They awoke the next morning, slotted around each other like two pieces of clay still shifting and stretching to fit together. Keith opened his eyes to a mop of brown hair already curling again and hot breath puffing over his collarbone. Lance stirred and lifted his head. Their eyes met and Keith’s heart stopped.

 

Keith was still in love when Lance whispered, “I still remember.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know any more at this point.
> 
> N E ways stan and yet the sun will rise again


	5. standing guard, falling apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leadership is a heavy burden to bear but keith might doesn't have to bear it alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: canon divergence - takes places shortly after Keith becomes BP; hurt/comfort; co-leadership;pre-relationship (but klance y'all know me)
> 
> song: [ Eight - Sleeping At Last ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K99i5GF65to&list=RDMMK99i5GF65to&start_radio=1)

_ I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart _

_ And all I want is to trust you _

_ Show me how to lay my sword down _

_ For long enough to let you through _

 

✵

 

        The ground beneath Keith’s feet was swaying while he moved through the different stances of swordsmanship. Foot in, Blade out, Duck, Feint, Strike. All of these motions. again and again. Against an opponent, he didn’t see, spun out of his imagination and coloured in shades of fear and paranoia. His exhaustion turned his movements sloppy, his guard dropped lower than it should and the world in front of his eyes blurred in and out of focus.

 

        “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Lance’s voice startled him enough that he almost dropped his bayard, the tip of the blade hitting the ground with a sharp  _ clang.  _

         “Pot. Kettle,” Keith panted out, first pointing at Lance and then at himself. Lance lifted his finger and shot him the grin of an arrogant scholar faced with his dumb pupil. Keith now knew him for long enough that it was nothing more than a facade. “Ah, ah, ah. I  _ have  _ already slept that’s a different thing.”

         “And yet, you’re awake, you must have obviously done something wrong then,” Keith used his sword as a crutch and hoped the motion seemed casual enough to go along with his teasing and not like his legs were about to give out beneath him at any moment. The narrowing of Lance’s eyes – there and then gone like it had never been there in the first place – told him he hoped in vain.

 

        “You only ever practice this long if something’s on your mind,” Lance said evenly like he didn’t expect an answer. His eyes – blue eyes, vibrant despite bearing the puffiness of one restless night too many – saw right through him as though his skin was made of glass and the insides of his mind were all there for him to see. The feeling made him cross his arms, desperate to create even just the illusion of a barrier.

 

        “So, are you going to tell me?” Lance raised his eyebrows in expectation. Keith remained silent. Maybe if he didn’t say anything Lance would decide that he wasn’t worth his time, after all, it had worked on some of his foster parents before. But with Lance, it didn’t. Lance let the let silence between them stretch, like an uninvited guest sprawling out in a space not fit to harbour them. In the end, Keith was the one forced to break it.

 

         He sighed. “I’ll take a shower and then meet you in your room?” He would anything at this point to buy himself some time. Lance looking at him like that, face open wide, clear blue eyes seeing the inner workings of Keith’s soul, unravelled him. It chipped away at the stone wall that Keith built around himself, tore it down, brick by brick, faster than Keith could ever hope to rebuild it.

 

        “See you later, then.” Lance nodded, a content gleam in his eyes, and turned to leave. One foot out of the training deck he turned back over his shoulder and shot Keith a teasing grin. “Don’t take too long in the shower!”

        “Don’t tell me what to do!” Keith snapped back.

        Lance’s laughter, the small hint of sunshine turned into sound and bouncing off the walls of empty hallways, was still in Keith’s ears even as he turned up the shower pressure to drown it out.

 

         Water dripped down onto his shoulders and left damp spots on his shirt. Keith hadn’t bothered with drying off his hair before he came to Lance. He knocked on the door and came in when he heard Lance’s muffled voice. The door slid shut behind him and he immediately regretted that he had suggested coming to Lance’s room. The room was too small and filled to the brim with Lance. He felt bare, like the contents of his thoughts were written across his face in bold letters. Keith wanted to sneer and scoff at the feeling in his chest, tight curl that felt too much like fear.

         And Lance hadn’t even said anything yet.

 

         Keith sat down on the bed, facing Lance and crossing his legs. He took a deep breath, pulling all of the splinters and pieces of himself back together, righting his frayed nerves, assembling an illusion of strength. Anything that could get him through this. It was makeshift at best, like trying to fix a crack in the concrete by putting sticky tape over it. But for now, it would have to be enough.

 

         “So, I’ll ask again: What’s wrong?” Lance leaned forward and shot him a concerned look, all the teasing and mischief from earlier now completely gone from his eyes.

         “That’s a loaded question,” Keith answered, a dry grin on his face, but the signs of him deflecting were obvious. Lance raised an eyebrow.

         “We both know neither of us will be sleeping anytime soon. Not after today anyway. Go ahead.” He gestured at him to keep going and Keith found his attention caught by the motion without meaning to.

 

          Their mission today had been the most recent of a number of calls too close and enemies way stronger than the anticipated. It had seemed like the stars themselves were about to rain fire down on them as they tried to take out the Galra forces occupying a planet so small and so far that Keith couldn’t even remember its name anymore. Each laser they fired was met with two Galra laser in return.

          An eye for an eye? More like an eye for a head.

          In the end, when it seemed like the world was going to break in half and that everything was happening just to show Keith he had done leadership wrong, Lance stepped up and made the world right again. Finished sentences for him when Keith’s voice failed him, offered strategy when his mind was fraught with panic and could form a thought. If it weren’t for him they wouldn’t have made it today.  But that wasn’t the problem. At least, not the whole problem, anyway.

 

          Keith opened his mouth to speak, fear and confusion high on his tongue, his sentence halfway done in his mind when his throat closed up. He opened his mouth and had nothing to say. Lance saw that and his eyes darkened with what seemed like hurt.

          “You know you can tell me everything right?” Lance leaned forward and gripped his hand, his palm warm and soft against Keith's skin.

          “Of course,” Keith forced out, his heart hammering inside his chest. 

 

          But Keith had bolted the door that led to his weaknesses shut a long time ago and now he didn’t know how to open it anymore. “I just don’t know how…” he pressed out, his voice small and frightened.

          “Baby steps. What’s the smallest thing you can tell me?” Lance’s voice wrapped around him like a blanket spun out of compassion and he shot Keith a look filled with warmth and the promise of patience. 

          Keith took a deep breath, gathered all of the pieces of his frayed mind and began to speak. “I can’t do this, Lance,” his voice was an echo of the exhaustion that rang through his bones, “I can’t be the Black Paladin, be your leader, anymore. I can’t take it.”  There it was ─ the truth, he had been running from for days and weeks – out in the open. It hung between them, like a bad omen promising betrayal and failure. Keith had been supposed to do this, supposed to fill this role not break apart like he was nothing but paper and sand.

 

          But when Keith gathered the courage to meet Lance’s eyes again neither of those, neither failure nor betrayal, was what he found. Instead, there was a spark, bright and beautiful.

          “Let me help you then!” His grip on Keith’s hand tightened and his voice rose, carried by the wings of his determination, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

          His voice softened but the spark in his eyes didn’t dim. Keith looked down at their joined hands and smiled softly. There was a war inside his head and his chest alike but he smiled anyway. Because with Lance holding his hand, with Lance promising to be at his side when responsibilities came to haunt him, how could he not?

 

          But doubt still prevailed, hurling accusation after accusation ─  _ you should do this alone, you shouldn’t be this weak, you should–, you shouldn’t– _

         “You don’t have to do this, Lance. You, you–”

         “But I want to! I want to ─ “ He broke off and buried his teeth in his lower lip. Even as the distress in his features rose his grip didn’t once falter, remaining the constant that kept Keith’s feet on the ground and the chaos in his mind at bay.

 

         “We are a team, aren’t we? Let me help you.” Lance pinned him with his eyes and inside his bones, an outcry, a plea for help, rose – _ i don’t know how –  _ only to be drowned out by a flame, ignited by the spark in Lance’s eyes –  _ you make me want to try. _

         “I–  _ Yes.  _ Just… yes.” The words came out in shards, bits and pieces of thoughts that made it to the surface before Keith managed to get a grip on himself.

         “Partners then?” Lance looked at him, hints of a smile playing on his lips and for the first time in forever, hope bloomed inside Keith’s chest. Lance lifted their joined hands and softly pressed a kiss to their joined hands. When his lips came off and the kiss was nothing more than a burning imprint, his smile was as wide as a sun.

 

         “Partners.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyy you made it!! 
> 
> follow me on twitter: [@cxnfiscated](https://twitter.com/cxnfiscated) (i swear i'm funny somtimes) and stan and yet the sun will rise again


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of battle, the quiet after a storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pairing: Klance  
> tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort-ish, physical affection, kisses, angstyish fluff (you'll get what i mean)

Silence was all the more jarring now that they lived in nothing but noise. Keith stepped into the changing room where they usually kept their suits. His knees were trembling, his vision swimming but he forced himself to keep going, to remain standing when all he wanted to do was to crumble, to fall.

 

_You’re the leader now, you don’t get to do that._

The thought rang clear, the silence gave it space to fully unfold, to max out on the damage.

 

Keith startled when he saw that Lance was already in the room, his back turned towards him, his chest plate next to him in pieces. He froze, hand still on the doorframe, mouth opened but voice failing him. His eyes caught onto the width of Lance’s shoulders –– _shoulders fit to carry the mantle of Black Paladin_ –– and the words died down in his throat.

 

_It should have been Lance. It should have been Lance. It should have been Lance––_

 

Lance turned to face him, lips spread into a soft smile, but slowly falling, wilting, as worry took its place. “Keith, are you okay?” Three steps and he was right there. His breath warm on his face, hands on his cheeks.

Keith melted into his touch. “I’m fine,” he croaked. Both of them knew that that was a lie but Keith said it anyway, out of stubbornness. _The same kind of stubbornness that almost got all of us killed._ Keith almost flinched at the thought and the worry on Lance face grew.

“Do you need help getting out of your armour?” Lance asked and read the answer off his face when Keith couldn’t bring himself to answer.

 

He gripped both his shoulders, his hands steady despite the exhaustion Keith saw so clearly resting on his body, and led him towards one of the benches near the walls. He led as though he was blind even though the lights were merely dimmed to their night setting. Keith bit down on his lip to stifle the groan at his aching knees but seamlessly complied when Lance helped him sit down.

“You don’t have to do this,” Keith whispered into the silence between them. For the first time since he had stepped into that room, Lance lifted his eyes to meet his. The golden hue from the overhead light was caught and diffracted in the blues of his eyes and although he was once again stunned speechless at their sight, Keith couldn’t help his eyes from straying downwards to the bags beneath them.

“I know,” Lance answered as he began to unclasp Keith’s chestplate around his shoulders, “I want to anyway.”

 

Keith wanted to crawl inside his chest and stay there forever.

 

Instead, he reached out and cupped Lance’s face with his hands. All of his muscles protested and ached and burned but he kept going until their lips met and the universe didn’t feel as dark anymore.

There were no sparks or anything, no bursting stars, no fireworks painting the sky in red and blue and purple. They had lost those a long time ago. But there was warmth instead. the kind that crept into every last crevice of your body, the sense of coming home after being lost for a lifetime. It was the kind of warmth that kept nightmares at bay, made the stars shine a little brighter and gave a cause to the cuts and bruises that littered their bodies.

 

Lance melted into him and pulled him closer, arms on the exposed part of Keith’s waist. He sighed as if he was feeling at least a fraction of what Keith did and so they stretched out this moment. Further and further, as though infinity were just around the corner if they only believed hard enough.

 

They separated and only an echo of that feeling remained. A promise for more if they indulged themselves again.

 

“Today was rough, wasn’t it?” Lance asked, an almost smile playing on his lips as if this were a joke with both of them as the punchline. There were flashes from their fight earlier. A run-in with Galran patrol gone rogue, back-up appearing, _fire, fire, fire––_

Keith nodded, as Lance set down his chestplate next to him on the bench. He took a deep breath of relief and for the first time, the air went where it was supposed to go.

“But we’ll be okay, right?” His voice was caught between a question and a plea, not fully settling and ending up both and neither. Lance looked at him, eyes full of hope and spoke the only answer there was to this question.

“Yes. Yes, we will.” _I won’t otherwise._

 

Keith caught Lance’s face again but this time his lips weren’t the first target. Deadset o not having an inch go unkissed he peppered Lance’s face with kisses. Eyebrows, the furrow between them until it no longer, eyelids lowered in bliss, cheeks, stardust-like freckles–– declarations and promises, all of them.

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you–_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my mind is such a mess and i can feel my health deteriorating as i'm writing this. ANYWAYS, you made it!! thanks a lot for reading! i'll hopefully see you soon!


	7. stars tumbling from the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk is set on working himself but Lance isn't going to let that happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags:  
> pairing: platonic hance  
> characters: Lance, Hunk  
> tags: Alternate Universe - The Galaxy Garrison, Friendship, Fluff, Comfort, Self Care
> 
> Chae, my love, this is for you <3

          The curve wasn’t going the way it was supposed. That statement could be true for both the derivative Hunk was trying to calculate, as well as his learning curve relating calculus. 

          This had once been easy. Not just four weeks ago, all of this still made sense and all of his equations solved themselves. Hunk pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes and sighed. His eyes burned when he closed them and tears gathered at the irritation. He wiped them away and went back to the equation. Still, nothing made sense. 

 

           He eyed the clock on the wall and panic rose in his chest when he saw that the hour hand had already come dangerously close to surpassing midnight. He should already be asleep. All of this should already be done and he should be sleeping. 

           This wasn’t just the exhaustion talking. The Garrison had a curfew and bedtime for its students, a law deeper enshrined than those of physics. The stars could come tumbling from the sky, the sun could suddenly start rising in the west, the Garrison cadets would still be in bed by half past ten.

           Hunk wouldn’t, though, he hadn’t slept before midnight for a very long time. 

           Stupidly ambitious and entirely too sure of his capabilities, he had over-packed his schedule and was paying for it now. With interest. As the first Samoan at the Garrison, he had to prove himself. Every step he took, eyes scrutinised him, every one of his achievements came from nights like these, slaving away, driven by expectations placed on him and the fear of failure. 

 

_           “You don’t really think you got in here on grades alone, do you?”  _ James Griffin’s sly voice, muffled by the silver spoon stuck in his mouth since birth, laced with the kind of arrogance that came of never being told off, rang in Hunk’s mind. 

_           “At least I didn’t just get in because some bribed the admissions office.” _

_           “At least I didn’t get in here because everyone fears the consequence of what your mother will do if you don’t.” _

_           “At least I didn’t get in here because of my name and not the person behind it.” _

           Hunk would’ve loved to say any of that. But he didn’t.

           Because even with the sentences stringing together in his mind, the sharpness fitting itself around his voice like silk wrapping around iron, his mouth remained closed, his voice silent. Instead, there was doubt, a drop of poison into a lake. Bit by bit Hunk’s confidence began to fall, like fish bellies popping up at the surface of the poisoned lake.

           Hunk walked away that day, none of his remarks made, his confidence in shreds around him.

 

           The door behind him swung open and Hunk’s heart stopped. He turned and clutched his chest. “What are you doing here?” he panted.

           “Keeping you from ruining your health. Close those books.” Lance, heavily loaded with a box, hip-checked the door shut and dumped the content of the boxes onto Hunk’s bed.

           “Lance–” Hunk began to protest but Lance wouldn’t have any of that.

           “Nope, this isn’t up for debate,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest and shot him a stern look, “The exam isn’t until Friday. That’s– What? Five days?”

           “Technically Four.” Hunk gestured at the clock, the hour hand had just passed midnight. A new day had begun and he was just as restless and stressed as he had been before. 

           “Neither of us has slept yet, so it doesn’t count,” Lance insisted and walked over to his desk. For a moment Hunk thought he’d reach past him and close the books himself since Hunk had made no qualms of doing so in the near future but instead he gripped his shoulders. He leaned in really close until Hunk’s line of sight was nothing more than freckles and curls and blue eyes. Blue eyes that quieted any protest he might have had.

 

            “You haven’t been taking care of yourself. I mean, look at you!” He shot up straight and shielded his eyes like he couldn’t bear the sight. Hunk snorted. “You’re decaying!” He gripped a strand of Hunk’s hair and made a show of sighing and despairing at the sight. Hunk spotted the flicker of a grin on Lance’s face as his own laughter began to die down. 

            “No but seriously,” the grin on his lips faded, “You can’t keep going like this. You have to take a break.” 

            Hunk opened his mouth to protest, he would master this, overcome this hurdle. Others had done before him and he would do it too. But his eyes got caught on the worry in Lance’s eyes, like a piece of fabric on a hook. His train of thought, powered and fueled by anxiety, ground to a halt, his mind constantly ahead in the future settled back into reality.

            He sighed. “Alright. Break time.”

 

            Lance smiled, entirely too bright and wide for that late of an hour, and enthusiastically clapped his hands. “Oh, this is great! So, I have prepared the  _ Self-Care Extravaganza Deluxe Packet  _ with, face masks, peelings, serums, eye masks, that one chapstick you like so much, you know that fancy one made with honey, the one of that French brand neither of us can pronounce─“ Lance gripped his hands and pulled him over to examine the skin care products he had brought over. Hunk didn’t even try to get a word in, he knew a losing battle when he saw one. 

 

           Approximately half an hour later, both of them lied cuddled together on Hunk’s bed, his laptop precariously balanced one of their thighs each and dry face masks flaking off their faces whenever they smiled too much. Hunk leaned over and paused the episode of Queer Eye that had been on before the next one started.

           “I missed this,” he said when he leaned back down again. 

           “It’s weird not sharing a room with you anymore,” Lance agreed. 

           Upperclassmen didn’t have to share their rooms anymore because, by the time they reached junior or senior year, enough students had been weeded out, so that there were enough rooms for each student to have their own. 

 

           A beat of silence lingered and passed between them, then he whispered. “Thank you, for this. I don’t know how you do this but I really needed this today.”

           Lance shot him a warm smile, flakes of the face masks breaking and falling, and squeezed his hand that had some time while watching Netflix found its way into his. “You’re welcome, buddy. Now, let’s wash these face masks off before one of us falls asleep.”

           He jumped to his feet and pulled Hunk with him. As he ushered Hunk into the adjacent bathroom, a new thought composed itself, a new certainty that was even stronger than the Garrison bedtime:

_            The stars could come tumbling from the sky, the sun could suddenly start rising in the west, Lance would still be at his side. _

  
  


───────────────────── 

 

           Hunk took his exam on Friday and got back his results two weeks later. It was the best grade he had gotten all year.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks a lot for reading!!!  
> this was written after a prompt from my friend chae ([@floralscribbles](https://twitter.com/floralscribbles)) go send her some love!
> 
> if you want to send ME some love (bls i need it), swing by my twitter and say hi!! [@cxnfiscated](https://twitter.com/cxnfiscated) (i promise im a nice person ;-;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, hello. this oneshot is part of a two-parter (kinda); i have a companion oneshot planned but it hasn't happened yet. so keep an eye for that. those who follow me on twt might already know this particular oneshot.   
> n e ways here the oneshot!, enjoy!!
> 
> tags: Alternate Universe - Lance and Keith were together before Keith left for the BoM but broke up; Lance POV; hurt without comfort; angst

Their nights were a slow ordeal. Their movements would be weighed down by a two days’ worth of training condensed into one, their muscles burning with enough exhaustion to fill the universe to the brim and make it spill over the edge, too.

Lance entered the room first, eyelids drooping, mind half-asleep. He let Keith have the first shower because they both knew that Lance took longer showers and Keith would get antsy. By the time Keith got out Lance still hadn’t moved an inch from where he had sat down earlier. 

Lance stepped into the white mist of a hot shower and started his own. Muscles uncoiled. A mind was eased. An ocean of sweat washed away. He left the shower stitched back together, better than he had been before.

Then the best part began.

They fell into bed together like two stars moving in the same orbit. They curled around each other, hands meeting skin, first kisses being shared and tension being chased away. Then the questions began – are you hurt? does this bruise still sting? are you comfortable? – they patted each other down, both caught in their frantic search for injuries they might have missed and only calmed when their search came up empty.

Then silence settled in, comfortably, with the intention to stay. A few weeks back they had still felt the need to fill it, an urge for idle chatter. Now they appreciated it for what it was. Let it settle in and didn’t disturb it.

Sleep claimed them soon after, with loving coaxing movements, like a siren’s song beckoning them home. They sank alongside each other, feet and hands tangled up, chests rising in unison. Peace finally settling in.

 

This was months ago and you still can’t acknowledge that you miss him. That your skin burns whenever you think of him. That you imagine indents in your waist that carry the shape of his fingers. That you slept on his pillow to fill your nose with his scent and stuffed into the back of your closet when you couldn’t smell him anymore.

 

Lance grits his teeth as his bayard changes its shape inside his hand. Now in the harsh glare of the training deck, rather than the grim lighting of a Galra base caught up in battle, he can see it happening in real time. Universe changing shape to torment him further. 

His gun lights up and recomposes itself. The result is a red sword, its blade long and narrow, edges glinting dangerously.

Lance is prepared for what he will see but when it finally happens, he drops the blade as if it burned him. There is a sharp clang and time alongside Lance’s heart grinds to a halt. The entire universe holds its breath and Lance falls apart.

 

You look down at the sword in front of you, sharp and red. It lays there, innocently, unbothered, as if it didn’t just tear your composure to shreds, as if it didn’t just pull at that one thread that made you come apart. You sink to your knees. Your chest caves in. Your lungs burn. Your vision blurs in front of your eyes. You expected this. You knew it would come. Now it is here and you cave, you wilt, you sink.

 

Lance blinks at the bayard that has never more belonged to Keith than it does now. Keith, who left him. Keith who was half a universe away and probably didn’t even miss him. Lance’s heart catches fire, pain searing and scorching as it eats its way through it, like a king parting a crowd. He gasps. Pain continues. Relentless. Inevitable. And Lance feels it all. Beginning to end, only to realise it’s a circle. Only to realise there is no end. 

 

You stare at the sword until it begins to glow and transforms back into its harmless form. Somehow you hoped that would make it better. That the disappearance of the sword would take your pain away as well. Like a hallucination. A trick of the light. You hope in vain. 

Pain coats you from head to toe, searing, burning, finally just smouldering. But even embers have the capacity to burn. You will still get blisters that refuse to heal. Just you watch.

 

His knees pop when he rises to his feet and he still imagines heat on his palm when he picks up his bayard. His training is over. Mastering his sword is for another day. Learning to live with his pain for a another lifetime.

Lance leaves the training deck and makes his way into the showers. He stands under the warm stream and imagines it a warm caress. Skin instead of water. Sweat washes away easily, the coat of pain lingers, the aches in his chest settles and sets up permanent residence. 

 

You learn to live with it eventually. It dulls throughout the day and taunts you at night. Your chest still caves in when you hear his name. It won’t stop doing that so there is no use in hoping. The pain eventually eats its way through your heart. That, too, was inevitable. The cold of outer space settles in.  _ That _ was your choice. The alternative is hoping for him to come back and fill the emptiness. We both know that won’t happen. Not so much of a choice if you think about it that way.

You learn to exist ─ _ because, let’s be real, who would call that living? _ ─ there is no other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the companion piece to this will be up sometime soon. until then, stan [to tear down a mountain of gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19357090/chapters/46052932) byeee!!


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